Delusions
by LoveFromAzkaban
Summary: Artemis is suffering from terrifying hallucinations, but Holly is there to protect him.


One, two, three, five...

There were soft sounds of footsteps padding down the hall.

Six...

A breath let out in a sputtering cloud, visible in the chill.

Seven, nine, ten...

Artemis drew his knees to his chest as he sat against the headboard of the stiff bed, stirring the puffs of breath that hung in the air like cigarette smoke. His fingers trembled against his knees, and he silently counted a rhythm to match the footsteps outside.

Eleven, thirteen, fifteen, seventeen, nineteen, twenty-one...

The footsteps stopped outside his door and a shadow slid behind the crack, blocking out the swinging lantern light. His breath caught in his throat. He could feel his heart beating against his ribs. Cold tendrils of fear reached into his chest and squeezed the breath out of his lungs; he couldn't move, he was paralyzed with terror.

This was it.

Tonight was the night they were going to kill him.

He gathered himself together at the edge of the bed and willed himself to move. He slipped quietly out of bed and raced to the window, only to find it locked. Of course it was locked. He tried to pry it with his fingers but it wouldn't budge. There was no escape.

His eyes darted desperately in all directions, looking for something he could use to fight them off, but they'd confiscated everything sharp and dangerous Anything he could use to defend himself against them when they came creeping in at night.

_Leave me alone, _he thought, _please leave me alone._

The lock on the door clicked open. It slid across the floor with a slow creak, soft light from the hall spilling across the dark floor. A dark silhouette stepped into view. Fear squeezed him so tightly he thought he'd pass out. The blood roared in his ears.

Five five five, he thought, and then his mind quickened to the beat of his heart, _fivefivefivefivefive-_

A light flared in his face, throwing the dark, shuttered room into a blue glow. He flinched back, closing his eyes against it.

"Artemis?"

His racing heart stuttered at the sound of the soft voice speaking his name. He peeled his eyes open just as the light was lowered from his face. Colors dotted his vision, dancing across the room as he blinked them away. In their place, Holly came into view, standing in the dark before him.

"Holly Short," he said breathlessly. "It's only you."

"Well, of course. Who else would it -" she began to say then faltered. "I mean, yes. It's only me. Not them." She frowned. "I was just coming in to check on you. I'm sorry for being so quiet. I had to sneak in here when the matrons had their backs turned. I wasn't trying to frighten you."

He could only stare, torn between wanting to hide or run to her.

"Why aren't you in bed sleeping?" she asked, but before he could answer she was suddenly coming over him, taking him by the arms and leading him to the bed, trying to help him into it. "Oh, Arty, it's alright. Just rest, alright? It'll be okay."

"I can't sleep." He shook his head, kneeling in the middle of the bed, on top of the covers. "I can't."

"Why not?" Holly climbed onto the bed and kneeled before him, taking his face in her hands. Her eyes burned like lanterns in the dark, fiercely gazing into his, but he couldn't bring himself to meet hers. They flickered away, looking at the walls and ceiling, unable to look at anything in particular for too long. He was terrified to show it but he secretly basked in her touch, in her attention, in the tenderness of his voice that she only reserved for him. He felt as if he were folding into her, like her hands on his face were a shelter nothing could break through. He closed his eyes, his lashes brushing her fingertips, and felt them pressing into her skin. One, two, three, four, five touches. Five. Safe. "Do you need medicine to put you to sleep? I can get you some."

"No," he whispered loudly, his eyes panicked. "I _can't. _

"Why not?" she whispered back, her thumbs stroking his cheeks, leaving an electric feeling where they touched.

Something in his stomach warmed and fluttered, and a part of him realized that if he were not sick, this position would probably be even more terrifying. Her eyes searched his face, searched _him, _seeing every secret laid out open and bare; seen the sickness that was killing him, the obsessions that were controlling him, heard his own mind betray him, and realized all along she had known the fears that paralyzed him his whole life...far before the Atlantis Complex even came along.

He'd always been a puppet, his own fears and insecurities pulling the strings, dragging him along. And she'd always rather known it, hadn't she?

"You always knew," he whispered, clutching her wrist like a life line. "Always."

Holly did not question him on what he meant. She did not remark on this at all, only held his face so softly and so close it felt like she could inhale him. Her hands slipped away from his face and took his hands instead, turning them over in hers.

"Cut the strings, Holly, please," he said. "Cut me free."

"You're gonna be alright," she said quietly.

There were more footsteps down the hall, hurried ones. Boots stomping on the marble floor, the crunch of bones underfoot and the clanking of heavy buckles. His heart sped up.

"They're coming to kill me," he said. "I've got to say goodbye to you now that I've got the chance."

"No one is going to kill you, Arty," she whispered, and for a moment he believed her.

But then the fours came creeping in, pressing at the edge of his vision. His heart sped up, and his head fell forward, resting against hers.

"But they will," he insisted. "Can't you hear them coming?"

"No, I can't hear any-"

"They're in the hall." His fingers tightened around her wrist. "They're outside the door. Run, Holly!"

"Stop this, Artemis," she said loudly, her voice carrying through the quiet hospital room. "Stop it."

"I'm trying to say goodbye."

"I'll never say goodbye to you," Holly said. "Never. So put it out of your head."

"But they -"

"There's nobody out there, Artemis, and even if there were, I wouldn't leave you. I wouldn't let them get you. They'd have to get through me. And you know that isn't an easy feat." She tipped his chin up to meet her eyes. "Please believe me."

A part of him was drawn to her words, was clinging to them like a life raft. He didn't remember reaching out and grabbing her but when he looked down he found his fingers clenching in her shirt, holding on tight. Her own hands reached up and closed over them, stilling the trembling.

"There, there," she said soothingly. "It's alright."

Her fingertips lightly danced over the back of his hand, tracing feather light patterns. His hands finally stopped shaking, but she didn't pull hers away. Her thumbs circled his palms and he felt his pulse begin to slow, his breaths coming more evenly.

Then a loud bang shook him out of his calm with a jolt. He shrank back on the bed, away from the door where fists were raining down on the other side, slamming, slamming, slamming, shaking it in its hinges. His heart began to hammer again. This was it. This was the end.

"They're here," he whispered, his lips barely moving as what little color he had drained from his face. He squeezed Holly's hands so tight he couldn't feel his own fingers. "Goodbye, Holly."

He tore his eyes away from the rattling door and looked at her, and her expression was pained, but not necessarily frightened. She reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from his forehead, her gaze sad and raw and unsettling. He leaned into her touch, his heart pounding with every beat on the door.

The door burst open and at the sight of four gigantic men lumbering into the room, huge dark shadows blocking out the door, he threw himself onto Holly and wrapped his arms around her waist.

The men wore long, vulture-like masks, with black curving beaks and slits for eyes. In the moonlight that slipped through the crack beneath the shades, and in the soft blue glow of the light Holly had brought, razor sharp blades gleamed. He heard himself gasp, the sound muffled by Holly's chest, and her arms came up around him, holding him closer to her. Over the sound of the boots stomping towards them, he heard her whispering against his hair.

"Whatever you're seeing, Arty, it isn't really there."

Their masks shifted and changed in the dark, morphing into sinister smiling faces. He could feel his heart beating against Holly's bones as she held him and wondered if she could feel it too.

There was a hiss in the air as a blade was raised high above their heads. His heart raced so fast he thought he was going to die. His breaths came fast and quick, his chest constricting. He was going to die, he was going to die, and all he could do was squeeze Holly tight and peek between her arms at the things advancing toward him.

"Breathe, Arty," she said softly. "Breathe. I've got you."

The blade hung above his head, poised to strike. He squeezed his eyes shut and waited for the blow.

But all he could feel was Holly's hand rubbing his back.

"I've got you," she repeated. "I've got you, and no one else ever will."

When he opened his eyes again, they disappeared.

One by one they shimmered out of existence, disappearing like shadows in the dark. He held his breath, listening to his heart pound, waiting to see if they returned. But the seconds turned into minutes and he lay with his head in Holly's lap, her fingers entwined in his hair, and the creatures did not return. Finally he let go of the breath he'd been holding, his lungs emptying slowly.

"Are you okay now?" she asked.

He couldn't speak. He couldn't bring himself to face her.

How could he have been so crazy? Was his mind really so far gone? A whole new sort of panic took hold of him and a wave of nausea rose up. He was really losing his mind. He actually was losing it. His vastly intelligent mind, always so rapt and aware, was slipping away from him. And if you stripped his mind away from him, what was left underneath? It was all he was. Without it he was nothing.

The more his thoughts circled this idea like a shark around a helpless prey, the deeper he felt himself sinking into despair. And high levels of stress such as this were what triggered the hallucinations. A new one would be starting soon if he didn't stop panicking, but thinking that only made him panic more. It was a vicious cycle.

Her fingers slipped beneath his chin and tried to tilt his head up to look at her, but he stubbornly refused. He couldn't look at her, or have her look at him. The horror and shame was going to eat him alive.

He felt her staring at him quietly for a few moments before sighing.

"Alright, come on."

The next moment she was yanking back the covers on the bed, pulling the sheets down and adjusting the pillows.

"Get under the blankets," she said.

He wished he had a dignified response to being treated like a small child by his best friend who he may or may not have romantic feelings for, but all he managed to say in response was:

"No."

How clever, he thought. What was it about her that always knocked the sense out of him? With anyone else he'd reduce them to a crying, whimpering ball on the floor after delivering a verbal beat down, but with Holly he was always the one to be left struck dumb and speechless.

"Arty, lie down and get under the covers. You need to rest," she said. "I'll stay with you until you fall asleep."

He wanted to continue refusing for the sake of his own pride, but suddenly he felt very tired. Exhausted with the effort of holding it together every waking moment since the second he got out of bed that morning. It felt colder than ever all of a sudden, and his eyelids suddenly heavier, and Holly had never seemed so open to him. The idea of lying under a pile of blankets and, admittedly, having Holly watch over him, was too appealing to resist.

He could feel a chill coming on again, and the fours were jumping out at him. Four walls. Four legs on the bed. Four corners. A violent bout of shivering came over him, so hard his muscles ached, and Holly reached out for him.

"You're cold," she said gently. "Sleep."

She guided him to the pillows and he succumbed to her will. She crawled over him, pulled off his shoes - which was easy, considering they'd taken his shoelaces - and tossed them to the floor. Then she pulled the blankets over him and laid down beside him, slinging an arm over his chest.

"See, I'm right here," she said. "If anyone tried to get you, they'd have to get me first."

His eyes widened in alarm and he moved to sit up before she pushed him back.

"Need I remind you that they'll have to get through Mr. Neutrino before they get to me?" Holly asked, patting the gun in her holster. "And before they get through Mr. Neutrino they'll have to get through Mr. Locked Door. And to get to Mr. Locked Door they'll have to get past Mr. Butler down the hall. There's a whole order of business that goes on, Artemis, a whole order of succession."

Artemis smiled weakly.

"I suppose," he whispered, though the inside of his mind was screaming, "_four four four four four..."_

_Four is death._

He could feel her lying beside him, staring at him for a long time. He had the sensation that she was reading his thoughts. Then she inched closer and kissed his cheek, making his stomach do a somersault.

"Are you okay, Mud Boy?" she asked softly, her voice a quiet rasp in the dark. Her fingers gently roamed up the curve of his neck before stroking the side of his face.

"I'm fine," he said, though he could hear heavy footsteps outside the door again, and could see shadows stirring in the corners.

"Ignore them," she said. "I'm right here. Stay here with me."

As his eyes fell shut and his head lolled against her shoulder, she began to gently stroke his hair, threading her fingers through it. He suddenly shivered at the touch.

"Are you still cold?" she asked. "Do you need another blanket?"

"No," he said, turning away. She wasn't sure if she was imagining it or if he were blushing. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"Nothing."

And so they laid there, his head against her shoulder, their heartbeats falling into sync as their breathing slowed. Her fingers absently traced patterns on his arm, drifting through his hair. Every so often his eyes would flash open and his fists would tighten their grip on the sheets and she'd whisper, "sshh, it's alright" until he relaxed against her, burying his head in the crook of her arm.

It was long after she was certain he had fallen asleep that she finally sat up and untangled her arms from him and pried his hands off of her. She quietly slipped out of the bed and looked down at his sleeping face, soft and carefree in a way it couldn't be when he was awake. She reached out and touched his cheek and something caught inside her chest, her heart seized by some terrible longing. She bent over and placed a quick kiss to his forehead. And after she quietly slipped out the door and down the hall the way she'd came and he awoke in the morning in an empty bed, he wouldn't be certain if it had all just been a dream.

* * *

Thank you for reading and please review! It motivates me to continue...

I'm thinking of writing more chapters only with Butler, Foaly, Mulch or some others.


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